


Roadhouse Rough

by posingasme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Bartender Sam Winchester, Curtain Fic, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, Permanent Injury, Retired Hunter Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-08-09 20:36:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16456781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: The last tangle with the last archangel ended with an act of spite, from which Sam will never recover. Lucifer’s bitter parting gift to his wayward vessel means Sam’s forced retirement. He runs the hub from his very own Roadhouse, and watches over a powered-down nephilim, while a weakened but recovering Castiel hunts at Dean’s side. It’s a rough life, but someone’s got to do it.





	1. Shards

**Author's Note:**

> For sweet Nonny Mouse, of course.

Jack hurried into the kitchen when he heard the crash. “Sam! Sam!” 

“It’s fine!” came the heavy sigh. “Go back to work.”

The young man-was that what he was now?-surveyed the broken glass across the floor with a sad ache. He watched his mentor, his hero, sit on his heels to pick at the shards. He jumped down beside him. “Let me, Sam! Please.”

But Sam waved him off. “Just a mug, Jack. Come on. If you can get those floors cleaned, we can get out of here for the night.”

“Floors are clean,” he murmured. 

Sam looked up finally. “You’re done?”

“Yes. And I prepared the inventory for tomorrow.”

The hunter smiled softly. “Nice work. Then...yeah. Okay. Sweep this for me. If you’re going to just stand there and watch me anyway, we both know you can do it faster.”

Jack swallowed, and watched Sam struggle to his feet with far too much effort. “I don’t mean-“

“I know. I know you don’t. Go on. I’ll lock up.”

He finished his task quickly enough. When he left the kitchen again, and he saw what awaited him, his face brightened into a grin. “Castiel! Dean!”

Sam was receiving his hug from his brother. “Yeah,” he teased, “guess I didn’t lock the doors in time. Some drifters blew in.”

“Hey, kid,” Dean called. “Grab me a beer in a bottle. I don’t care what. Just none of that dark craft crap.”

Castiel snickered. “His palate is incredibly refined.”

Jack hurried to gather up four cold beers, and raced back to the table his friends had chosen. “Can I get you something to eat?”

The angel shook his head, but Dean scoffed. “What kind of place are you running? Where are the beer nuts?”

Sam was speaking quietly as Jack bustled around playing host. At last, he sat beside Castiel to listen. “It’s not a big deal. I just thought you better know. Just in case.”

Dean took a deep breath, and nodded. He was no longer smiling, but he tried. “Just in case. We’re not going to need any just in case.”

Sam lowered his gaze. “Right. I just mean...Anyway.”

Castiel was looking from one brother to the other with a frown. 

But Sam forced a smile, and turned to Jack. “Want to tell them, or should I?”

Heat filled Jack’s face in an instant. It was both pleasure and anxiety which plagued his complexion. How would these two react? 

“Tell us what, Jack?” Castiel asked kindly. 

He pushed his hair away from his face. “I’m taking classes. Two. Two classes.”

Dean turned to stare. “Classes! In what? Where? What name are you using?”

Sam rolled his eyes at him. “Relax. He’s using an alias. I made papers for him. And it’s just down the road, at the community college.”

His brother scowled. “I don’t like it.”

“Of course you don’t.”

Castiel glanced sidelong at Dean, then turned back to the nephilim. “You’re taking classes. What are you studying?”

Jack had been chewing on his lip, but now he spoke up. “One is a basic psychology class. And the other is…” He glanced at Sam, who nodded his encouragement. “The other is physiology, which-which is the first course toward a nursing degree.”

Silence met his announcement. 

Back when he had the power to disappear at will, Jack might have done just that. Now, he was stuck in front of those stares.

Sam sighed. “Jack and I talked about what was next for him. He’s not going to stay behind the bar at the Roadhouse forever, and as much as he wants to hunt, I think we both agreed that the best way he can contribute to the fight is to learn how to patch somebody up after one. We get hunters in here all the time, just like Ellen used to, and a lot of them could use more than a finger of whiskey to get them to the next hunt.”

Jack saw the way Dean was narrowing his eyes at him, and he dropped his gaze to his own hands. 

The older man cleared his throat. “Real noble of you, kid. I’d be even more impressed if you could find your way to another beer, and bring it to me outside. I gotta grab a bag and secure my Baby.”

Jack rushed to follow, but took the time to glance back at Castiel. The angel gave him a nod, then turned to take Sam’s hand in his own. Jack hurried after Dean. 

The hunter was covered in gray dust, and probably some less mundane grime. For a moment, he looked old to Jack, standing like that, staring at his car with that expressionless face that gave nothing away. He didn’t reach for the beer Jack offered, and he didn’t look at Jack himself at all. 

“Nursing, huh?”

Jack took a deep breath. “Yes. I think it is how I can help the most-“

“Sam. It’s how you can help Sam.”

He didn’t answer, just let the words fall down to the earth between them. 

Dean smiled weakly. “Yeah. That’s what I figured.”

“I owe him everything, Dean. Everything. And I know he pretends not to, but he needs someone. This is the only way he will let me take care of him, if I let him believe it’s because I want to treat the hunters who pass through here. And I will! I’ll do that too. But, Dean, he needs a nurse.”

The flinch was nearly imperceptible, but Dean’s eyes slipped closed. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, I know he does. But it don’t have to be you.”

“It can be me. I want it to be me. Sam is...Sam is my hero, Dean. He believed in me from the beginning. And I still think, if Castiel is right that my grace will one day return, I’ll be able to heal-“

“Enough.”

“Dean-“

But the hunter’s eyes flashed at him in warning. “I said enough. We all know that ain’t going to happen, Jack. Sam’s out of the game for good, and if you get your grace back...Jack, go. Just go. You and Cas...I’ve looked after my brother our whole lives. I’ll look after him when he needs me. I’ll retire from hunting. Hell, I’ve wanted to do that for years…”

Jack shook his head. “Castiel says you say that but you never mean it. He says you’ve never been able to walk away from hunting, that you need it.”

Dean’s jaw clenched stubbornly. “I need my brother. When he suggested this, I thought he had lost his mind. But it works. He runs the hub like Bobby always did, and gives a safe place for hunters like Ellen Harvelle’s place. It works. For now. When he gets to the point where he can’t do it anymore, or you do...I’ll come home. We’ll give the bunker key to Jody and put some rocking chairs out on the porch. This ain’t a life sentence for you, Jack.”

Tears stung his eyes, and frustration filled his breaking heart. “It’s not...Dean, you don’t understand. It’s not a burden. It’s an honor.”

“I know you mean that, and I appreciate it. Like you don’t even know. I really do. But Sam’s looking out for you until you get back to fighting shape, and then you need to go. Hunting with Cas is just a temporary thing, Jack. I wake up every morning knowing any hunt can be the last one. Something takes me out, okay. But if not, I’ll be at my brother’s side while you and Cas go live your lives and fight if you can. It ain’t the retirement either of us wanted, but it’s what is coming, and it could be worse. So take your classes if you want. But when the time comes that you don’t need looking after anymore...just go, and make Cas go with you.”

The tears cut paths down his cheeks, and they burned a little. “Castiel will never leave him.”

Dean settled his bag on his shoulder, and grabbed the beer. “That’s why you make him go,” he growled, and stalked back into the Roadhouse without another word. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are better than beer nuts for a writer with a refined palate.


	2. Chill

Castiel’s hands were warm and comforting. The perpetual chill in Sam’s bones, the ache in his joints, it all eased a little when Castiel was near. 

“You’re shaking,” Castiel observed quietly. 

“Not so bad. I’ll be fine.”

His lover sighed, but let it go. “How have you been since we were here last?”

Sam smiled at him. “Colder than when you’re here.”

He shouldn’t have said it. He watched the heartbreak cross Castiel’s face. “I shouldn’t leave you for so long. Perhaps I shouldn’t leave you at all.”

If there were anything in the world Sam wanted for himself, it was that. If he could just be that selfish, he would only have to say it, and Castiel would never leave his side again. Some nights, when he couldn’t sleep because the pain was too sharp in the cold prison of his own body, he considered calling to his angel for mercy. 

But Sam couldn’t do that. 

“No,” he murmured. “Stop. I’m fine. I just mean that it’s nicer when you’re here. How’s your grace?”

Castiel shrugged. “Slow in its regeneration. It seems as though it is sulking because of the torment I’ve put it through over the last few years.”

Sam chuckled softly. “You’re lucky it’s coming back at all, after the way you’ve treated it.” He frowned then. “And you-you still think that Jack’s…”

“I believe it will return. But it may take a very long time. I can’t guess how long it will take me, let alone Jack, to return to full power.”

Sam realized suddenly that there was some magic at work there. “Cas! Stop! You’re wasting what little you have. I told you that I’m fine.”

Blue eyes full of anguish searched Sam’s face. “I cannot do nothing. You suffer, belovéd. So long as I have an ounce of grace, I will use it to warm you.”

He shook off Castiel’s hands. “Well, knock it off. That’s stupid. You need that grace to watch over my dumbass brother and my stubborn angel lover. If one of you got hurt one day because you had used precious grace just to make me more comfortable, I’d never forgive you. Don’t be stupid.”

But Castiel could feel his relief, and the words of protest fell upon deaf ears. “You feel better.”

“Of course I do! That’s not the point!”

“I don’t care what the point is. I won’t watch you suffer while I can help.”

When he said things so simply like that, Sam had trouble arguing. “You’re pigheaded.”

“And so are you. And now you’re pigheaded and warmer.”

Sam’s smile eased back out. He couldn’t help it. “I love you, angel.”

“Hm. I’m glad. Dean needs some recovery time, and I admit to being weary myself. We will stay the weekend.”

This was a welcome relief, much like Castiel’s warmth. He could never be sure Dean wasn’t just grabbing a beer and checking on them before jumping back into the Chevy and rolling out again, with Castiel in the passenger seat where Sam belonged. “That’s good. How was the hunt? Skinwalkers, you said.”

Castiel looked startled. “Skin-Yes, well, that was last week. We just cleared a nest of vampires in Omaha this morning.”

Sam frowned. “You...I didn’t know about that one. You two usually tell me where you’re going to be and what you’re up against. Cas, how can I be sure you guys don’t need backup if you’re not keeping me up to date on everything?”

“It happened quite fast. And it went well. There’s no need to worry. Dean has been teaching me a great deal about-“

“No! Cas, wait. Go back. It happened fast? That’s not good enough! You had time to text me.”

His angel lowered his eyes. “Dean worried that if you knew it was a nest, you might…”

“Might what? Might be ready to send backup? Because that’s exactly-“

“That you might come yourself.”

Sam sat back. He swallowed hard, and took several breaths before continuing. “I’ve been sidelined, Castiel. But I’m not dead. If my brother needs help, you’re damn right I’ll be there. If all I can do is buy you some time to heal Dean so he can keep fighting, I’d consider it a worthwhile death.”

He was met with a dark frown. “Good for you,” he snapped. “Where would that leave me? I don’t-“

“Let me finish. I’m not dead. And I’m not going to sit safe if I can help Dean. But I’m also not stupid. I know I’m not the best one for the job. Clearly. That’s why I stopped in the first place. Because I’m more hindrance than help. If you had told me you were walking into a nest, I would have gotten details to any hunters in the area who could help out. Hunters who can still hunt.”

Castiel’s eyes softened, and Sam could see he was trying to hide his pity. It was there, just like Sam’s shame, but they both pretended it wasn’t, for the sake of Sam’s pride. It was a good arrangement that Sam was grateful for. 

He sighed. “So just text me, okay? Next time? Like it or not, I’m part of the team. I’m just the stay-at-home dad kind of hunter.”

To his surprise, Castiel began to smile. “Dad,” he murmured. “Jack has expressed that he would rather think of us as his paternal influences instead of Lucifer.”

“Me too. As far as I am concerned, Kelly was a victim of rape and deception who became a kickass single mom. Lucifer had no claim on his heart or his education. He was sperm, and that’s it.”

“Sam…”

“You disagree?”

“Only...it isn’t exactly sperm which-“

The roll of his eyes was sufficient to cut off Castiel’s explanation of angel reproduction. 

He laughed quietly. “You’re a good dad, Sam. There is no one else I would trust to mentor Jack like I trust you. Like he trusts you.”

At last, Sam returned the smile. “He’s not my kid. But I’m happy to look out for him, and teach him what I can. He’s good company, Cas. I’m inclined to think that’s more your influence and Kelly’s than Lucifer’s.”

“A shame he wasn’t raised by Gabriel,” his angel said in his driest tone. 

There was a cringe to Sam’s laugh. “If only.” He leaned in to kiss Castiel’s cheek. “I missed you, Cas. I’m glad you’re here.”

Since they could hear doors closing behind them, Sam knew Dean had headed off to the room he used while visiting, to shower. A moment later, he could hear Jack sighing, then another set of doors closing, quietly this time. 

“Guess it’s just you and me.”

Castiel frowned after Jack, but shrugged. “I’ll speak with him in the morning. You’re tired too. May I lay with you tonight?”

Sam would never get tired of that question.


	3. Iced

Castiel wrapped himself around Sam’s body, curling in as though he could protect his human this way. It wasn’t so simple as that.

Sam’s excruciating chill came from the inside, where Lucifer’s tainted grace burned cold. It had been the Devil’s last act of spite, to snap his fingers and activate the final dredges of grace inside the man who should have been his one true vessel in his ultimate victory. Castiel and Jack had managed to keep it from killing Sam, while Dean finished the job Michael had begun, and destroyed Lucifer for good. But at their reduced strength, even working together, they were unable to prevent the damage to Sam’s nervous system. They couldn’t remove the grace without killing Sam, nor could they heal his pain. Weeks had turned to months, and now nearly a year had passed.

Sam had bought the Roadhouse with Men of Letters money. That is, he had sold the most mundane, harmless charm in the collection, and used half the million dollars it fetched at auction to buy the place. It wasn’t entirely because of his need for occupation. Sam could no longer live in the bunker, thanks to Lucifer’s parting gift. Every warded object in his midst fought against him. Dean still used the bunker as headquarters, as did Mary and Bobby and Charlie, but Sam and Jack had disappeared into normalcy behind a bar.

The man had worked in a bar before, apparently, and seemed to actually enjoy what he did, except that it wasn’t what he wanted to be doing. But he made the best of it all, and had become something of a patriarch in the hunting network, a touchstone for those new to the life and veterans alike. Some days, all he could provide was a cold drink and a patient ear, as those still in the fight relived the day’s horrors.

Through it all, Sam never complained. He adjusted to this new life with admirable, dignified resolve. Castiel knew it weighed on him, even so.

“You feel so good,” the man murmured sleepily.

Castiel smiled. “I’m glad.”

“Cas? Is there anything you need? I think sometimes it’s just me who-“

But the angel had heard this statement begin before, and he didn’t like how it ended. “I benefit from your company at least so much as you do from mine, belovéd. Never doubt that.”

He could feel Sam sighing. “I feel useless, Cas. I can’t help it. I didn’t mean to snap at you earlier. About the hunt. I just can’t stand the idea of you and Dean out there without me having your back. I know you don’t really need me. I’m-I’m not delusional. It’s just...hard.”

He held tighter. “I’ve felt that way too many times, Sam. Please believe me that you are far from useless. You are what so many soldiers have been. You have laid down arms, and you feel your life is over because your fight is over.”

“It isn’t over.” He turned in Castiel’s arms to face him. “That’s Just it. The fight’s not over, Cas. It’s just that I’m not in it anymore. If it were over, I’d be on that beach Dean’s always muttering about. Nothing’s over. I’m just not on the front line anymore.”

He paused and wet his lips with the point of his tongue while he developed his communication strategy. Then he took a breath. “Sam? You have taken over as custodian of the most powerful creature in the universe. He yet remains weakened, but Jack’s education and protection will one day determine the fate of your whole world, and beyond it. I know this, in the depths of my heart. I also know without a doubt that you are the warrior and the teacher I want at Jack’s side. I promised Kelly he would be safe and loved, and I swore to Lucifer he would never follow his path into wickedness. Jack’s best chance, and the best chance for any of us, is you.”

Sam watched him with an ache Castiel could feel in his own heart.

“You are the front line, Sam. Losing Jack would mean losing everything. Everything we’ve ever worked for, fought for. Everything we’ve ever loved. If we lose Jack, or his heart, we’ve lost it all. You are the front line, belovéd. The rest of us are just doing what we can while you do what you must.”

Tears welled in Sam’s eyes, and he took a shuddered breath. He nodded, as the tears began to slide over the bridge of his nose onto his pillow. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Castiel shrugged. “It’s the truth. And more than all that...I’m grateful for your guardianship of Jack, for his own sake. He is a good young man, and it brings me unending pride to see that he has become a true Winchester. He had to grow up quickly, but he’s had an advantage no one has ever had. He benefits immeasurably from your example of kindness and hope. I don’t worry about him losing his good nature. Not with you as a model.”

Sam lowered his gaze. The tears were hardening, and he flinched as he blinked. Castiel hurried to place his fingers to his lover’s forehead, to warm him, and the building salt-ice tears flushed away.

“You must not weep, Sam.”

“I don’t. I mean, not usually. Thank you. It hurts. Bad. I dropped a glass tonight, broke it, because my grip wasn’t steady, and I was so frustrated I nearly...but I know better. It’s only with you that I get too emotional.”

Castiel sighed. “Your grip wasn’t steady,” he repeated.

His lover stretched out and away, and Castiel could feel his temperature dropping immediately. “Yeah. It’s been bad. You probably never got frostbite, but it’s like that. Your hands feel so cold that you can’t get a good grip on anything. Then, even if you can get them to warm up, they ache...Anyway, it isn’t a big deal. I was just overtired. Besides, I’m never as cold as I feel like I am.”

“Sam, your perception of your own body temperature is inaccurate, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t valid.”

Sam laughed, and sat up. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what that means.”

But Castiel did not laugh. “You burn cold from the inside, Sam. The temperature of your skin is often warmer than your joints-“

“Cas, enough. I just cried ice. That’s not normal. But I’m not actually going to freeze to death. It should’ve killed me by now if it was going to. Yeah, it hurts, especially my eyes and joints, and...and everything else. But it isn’t going to kill me, and there’s nothing we can do, so let’s leave it alone.”

“Leave it go.”

Sam glanced back at him. “What?”

Castiel smiled softly. “Sheriff Hanscum was the one who tipped us off about the nest of vampires. I spoke to her at length on the phone as we drove. It’s something she says sometimes. Leave it go.”

“Donna’s accent always makes Dean try out new phrases, every time we run into her, for days afterward.” He smirked. “He’s such an idiot, but it’s pretty funny when he tries to say you betcha. Don’t tell him I said so, or he’ll do it all the time.” He heaved another sigh. “Who would’ve guessed I’d miss riding around with that idiot?”

The angel snickered. “And who would’ve guessed I would miss riding alone?” he teased. “I mentioned that he might consider updating his cassette collection, and he said something about house rules, and I pretended to be listening to angel radio so he would stop talking.”

“Sometimes I put in earbuds with nothing playing just so I could enjoy the quiet.”

“I may try that.”

“Don’t bother. He talks to himself if nobody will listen. And there’s nothing that can make him not sing with the radio.”

Castiel smiled. “Yes, I’m now familiar with every bad key which can possibly be applied to each of the songs of Led Zeppelin. I’ve received quite an education from Dean these many months.”

“You betcha,” Sam laughed.

His human settled back into his arms, and they were quiet for a long time. Finally, Castiel had fretted in silence for as long as he could, and he addressed the question on his mind. “Belovéd?”

“Angel.”

It never failed to make him smile. Sam used his species as though it were a proper pet name. “You said something to Dean earlier. Before Jack’s announcement about his classes.”

“What about?”

He narrowed his eyes, but Sam was turned away from him again, so he could not search for evidence that he was being coy. “You know about what. Don’t you?”

His lover sighed. “You mean...just in case.”

“Yes. What were you telling him? You say things I think I understand, but then I realize you’ve communicated something entirely different with your brother, with your eyes and your tone, and the way you move your hands very slightly, and...I sometimes feel like the two of you take advantage of the fact that English is not my first language,” he complained.

Sam began to laugh, and the bed rocked with his mirth. “Yeah? I’m guessing not your second one either.”

“Hardly. It seemed as though every time I came to understand a group of humans I observed, their language changed. Eventually, it culminated into Winchestarian, which has no syntax that I can follow, and is mostly made of grunts, glares and smirks, so far as I can tell.”

“You’re nearly fluent. Your eye rolls have become epic. Practically a native Winchester.”

Despite the teasing tone, this made Castiel strangely proud. It felt the same as when Mary included him in the phrase “one of my boys.”

Sam sighed. “Just in case,” he muttered. “I think it’s important for Dean to know where I’ve got stuff stashed. It’s just prudent. Like Dad’s journal. It’s in a fireproof safe, and Dean should know where. Bobby’s curse boxes are at the bunker, and I labeled it all before I had to leave, but I want to go through my system with him again so Dean remembers what not to touch if I...The cash. In case he needs it in a hurry. The papers for the Roadhouse. The key to the locker in Poughkeepsie. He might need to know this stuff. And-and he does, it’s tangled up in his brain someplace, but I just want to be certain. Hell, Cas, he should know the password for Netflix! But he likes to pretend he won’t ever need to know those things, because I’ll always be there. He won’t talk about it.”

“It’s painful for him.”

“And he needs to be practical. It doesn’t make any sense not to be prepared. Just in case.”

“I see. Is it all right that I also don’t like thinking of a world without you in it?”

Sam’s voice softened. “Not if it means you aren’t prepared for when it happens. I’m not planning on going anywhere, Castiel. But, of all people, angel, you know one day you’ll blink, and I’ll be gone.”

His heart inside his vessel seemed hollow suddenly. It was true. Castiel had lost everyone. Everyone was gone. Ishim’s flight, his own, Anna and Hannah, Balthazar and Bartholomew, all the brothers and sisters he had ever served with, all those who had ever followed him, even the archangels had expired at last. Even Crowley was gone. Crowley, who Castiel had come to believe would always rise from ashes to sneer again, even he was truly gone.

But not Dean, and not Sam. Not Jack. Not yet.

“You’ll have to forgive me, belovéd, if I spend every moment we have and every bit of my heart loving you until then. I’ve seen mountains crumble and stars burn themselves out, Sam. But none were ever so strong as you. There is nothing which would prepare me for that moment. So I choose not to waste my energy dwelling on it, when I could be making love to you instead.”

It seemed that even Sam had no rebuttal for that, so Castiel took the opportunity to warm his lover’s chill, properly this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments keep writers warm at night. True.


	4. Snap

Sam was sorry to leave Castiel’s warmth, but he had work to do, and anyway, he knew his brother, and there was talk coming, whether Sam felt like it or not.

He showered, dressed, then lost twenty minutes to an obdurate nosebleed. By the time he finally made it down to the kitchen, Dean was already taking it apart.

He sighed wearily. “Good morning?”

The older man looked up. “Oh. Good. Get in here. You don’t have a skillet.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what that is.”

Dean’s exasperation was always best in the morning. “You don’t-Shut up. Do you have one or not?”

Sam smirked, and rubbed his eyes. “Somewhere in that cabinet.” He pointed vaguely, then leaned on the wall to watch Dean crash around. “So? Let me have it.”

“Have what?” But Dean’s teeth were clenched. He was agitated, just as Sam expected.

“Go on. Get it all out.”

The skillet slammed onto the counter, and Dean whirled on him. “You know what I don’t get?”

“There it is.”

“You’re the one who keeps telling me there’s going to come a day real soon when Cas and Jack need to go.”

Sam’s gaze lowered.

“That as soon as Jack gets his groove back, you’ll let him try to heal you, like he’s convinced he can do, and if it doesn’t-“

“When,” he corrected softly. “When it doesn’t work.”

Dean scowled at him. “Okay, first of all, we don’t know that. You don’t know. Maybe he can do it at full power. You don’t know!”

“And Castiel said it could take a century or more for Jack to get back to full power anyway!”

“Or he could hulk out next week! We don’t know! But let’s say he does, and can’t heal you. We both know that’s going to break the kid’s heart. And there’s nothing scarier in the world than little Nephie getting protective over his Daddy Sam. But all that aside? I don’t get you!”

“You never have.” But the accusation was so quiet that he knew his brother hadn’t heard.

Dean was getting emotional now, and fighting against it, so his voice was going rough and husky. “You tell me once they’re healed up themselves, they gotta go. You tell me this isn’t what you want for them. That it’s going to be up to me to make them leave. How I’m supposed to make either of them do anything, I don’t know, but I’m supposed to make them see that they gotta go keep fighting and leave you behind.”

“You promised me.”

“Sure. Whatever. I said I’d try. I said it was stupid; but I said I’d try.”

Sam glared into his brother’s eyes. “That was the condition. I’d resist the damn urge to  _off_ myself if you would promise that you’d make them go when I can’t be of any use to them anymore. Once they’re both back to a hundred, they gotta go.”

Dean threw his hands up. “Then why the hell are you encouraging Jack to be a damn nurse? You know why he wants-“

“Of course I know why!” he shouted back. “He can get his degree anyway! It’ll be good for him! It already has been! He doesn’t need to know he’s not doing it to take care of me. He just needs to have a way to help in the fight until the grace recovers. He’s me, ten years ago. He thinks hunting might be over. He’s trying to learn about something else in the meantime. I’m not going to let him be my nurse, Dean! But he has to do something to feel like-like he’s helping or-or he’s going to give up!”

Throughout the speech, Dean’s eyes softened until they became rimmed in red. “Sammy? You can’t give up, okay?”

“I was talking about Jack-“

His brother sighed. “You’re talking about all of us. And you’re doing the thing you say I do, projectioning.”

Sam’s throat had been closing on him, but now a laugh burst out and he could suddenly breathe again. “Projecting, dumbass.”

“Whatever. Just...just stop acting like everything we built is over. It’s not. It’s different. But we’ve never had it easy. And we will get through this just like everything else we’ve ever-“

“There’s no getting through this, Dean! That’s what I’ve been trying to get you all to understand! Lucifer tied his grace to Azazel’s blood! It’s never coming out! If Cas could have burned out the demon blood, don’t you think he would’ve done that years ago? Some things can’t be cured, Dean, because they can’t be separated from me without killing me. Apparently my soul isn’t essential to my survival, but the demon blood is. Because it’s part of me in a way even my soul isn’t. And that’s what the remains of Lucifer’s grace is tangled up in. The ice water that’s pumping through every part of me every second of every day, it’s all there to stay.”

Desperation shone dark in Dean’s eyes now. “The Mark felt like that sometimes.”

Sam sighed at him. Dean would never understand, partly because he couldn’t, partly because he didn’t want to. “The Mark wasn’t part of you. It took control. The Mark didn’t fester inside you for thirty years, and taint every organ. The Mark protected its host, but the demon blood...It’s literally my life force. I don’t have demon blood in my blood, Dean. The demon blood is my blood. And binding with Lucifer’s grace is what it was always meant to do. That happened immediately, as soon as I let Lucifer in, and it’s been there, dormant, ever since. Gadreel’s grace couldn’t bind like that, and that’s why Cas was able to remove it. Lucifer’s…” He snorted bitterly. “It’s like he had the compatible blood type. The transfusion isn’t reversible.”

“How do you know?” Dean whispered.

The sad smile trembled on his lips. “Same way I knew what Azazel showed me was true all those years ago. Same way I knew him feeding me the blood of a possessed human had corrupted my whole bloodstream. He didn’t have to tell me that. As soon as I saw it, I knew. And I know this. So you can stop picking fights with vamps and skinwalkers. I don’t care what the spells say. Their blood isn’t going to do anything to cure me.”

Dean’s eyes went wide. “How-“

“You think I didn’t read through those same books? Think I don’t know why you bolt after every case that could maybe lead you to a monster that changes its victims at the cellular level?”

His brother let his gaze drop, confirming Sam’s suspicions. “You’re hurting, man. I can’t do nothing.”

“And I’m a better researcher than you are. Once angel grace is in the mix, all those other ingredients are worthless. Ever seen a vamp try to fight Cas? No contest. Lucifer’s grace, Azazel’s blood...There just isn’t a way to fix this.”

“Rowena-“

“Rowena is stringing you along. She knows there’s no cure out there. Or if she doesn’t know...That doesn’t change anything. So if Jack wants to learn to take care of humans, and if you and Cas want to keep trying to track shifters and werewolves and vampires and skinwalkers, great. Those are all good things. Just don’t delude yourselves, and don’t try to delude me, into thinking you’re going to fix me.”

It felt like far too long before Dean found his voice again. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Okay. Well, if you all want breakfast, you-you better give me some space to make it.”

“Dean?”

“What, Sammy?” he huffed wearily, as he ran his hand down his face.

“This is no different from the Croatoan thing years back. Okay? When Cas and Jack leave, you need to go too. This is the end for me. It doesn’t have to be for you. There’s still going to be monsters out there, still going to be plenty to fight. And it’s just like with the feds, when we called for Billie. At least one of us can keep fighting.”

Dean turned away at last, and continued clomping around the kitchen. There was always something very sad about watching Dean try to hold onto his anger when what he was really feeling was despair. “You’re right, Sam. This is exactly like the Croatoan thing. And like every other damn thing we’ve ever faced. There ain’t no me if there ain’t no you. Boss the angels around all you want. But stop telling me what to do.”

Sam watched him for another moment, then heaved another sigh, and quietly left the way he had entered. His shivering was becoming painful anyway, and he needed to go find another sweater. Or maybe a warm angel to curl up into.


	5. Frigid

Castiel’s favorite time of day, back when he had his wings, was sunrise. Some mornings, when he had lay beside his lover, he still rose early to view it, as a human would instead of from the wind. It wasn’t that the sun was rising, of course. The earth was turning so that more and more of the sun’s light was visible to the part of the globe which was home to Sam Winchester. But the humans called it a sunrise, and he liked the sweet optimism inherent in the term, so he used it too.

It was very difficult to be still for the whole night in Sam’s bed. He dozed occasionally, but it was more like deep meditation than sleep, and so it became harder and harder not to fidget as hours ticked by. It was nothing like standing guard or awaiting orders, nothing like being still as revelation washed over an angel. Instead, he lay on his back or side, and it was simply strange. It was infinitely worth it to luxuriate in Sam’s embrace, and he sometimes thought his vessel benefitted from the rest, but it was still quite odd to lie prone for hours on end.

Slipping away while Sam slept had become a guilty sport. It was weirdly fascinating to try to untangle himself without disrupting Sam’s rest, and listen for all the soft sounds which would tell him if he had succeeded. It always felt wrong to leave the bed while his lover still burned so cold, but at the same time, he could not avoid the rest of the world forever. He had a responsibility to protect innocent humans from certain dark threats. He was an exterminator, as Claire said, and he was needed.

It was raining very gently this dawn, and Castiel smiled at the sensation of it falling on him. Everything always felt a little more pleasant after spending time with Sam.

But it took only a moment for his pleasure to sour.

Castiel’s nose wrinkled. A frown crossed his face, and he looked for the culprit which offended his olfactory sensibilities. It was a strange stench, and not wholly unfamiliar, though he could not place where he had smelled it before. It pricked at his nose, and soon he was looking for its source even though he did not want to approach it. What was it? He knew that smell. What…

“Stagnant water,” a voice murmured.

He glanced behind him to find Jack standing several meters off, toward the trees in the back of the Roadhouse. “Yes,” Castiel responded quietly.

“Bacteria.” Jack was wincing.

The angel nodded. “Definitely.”

“But something else.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “Something else.”

“What is it? It’s awful!”

Castiel closed his eyes and took three slow breaths through his nose. “Infection,” he decided at last. “The smell is contaminated water and infection. Specifically gangrene. Rot. It has been a very long time since I…”

Too late, the ancient memory returned to him, slammed into him like Naomi’s needles, which had stolen the recollection and events surrounding it to begin with. Too late.

“Jack! Get back! Run for Sam and-“

Too late.

The muddy water which had pooled in the innocuous rain puddle near them suddenly sprang forward and engulfed them both, and just like that, the Smobr had captured its favorite prey...angel.


	6. Gelidus

Castiel had a habit of wandering off. Sam hadn’t minded in the past, but now that they so rarely got time together, he couldn’t help being a little disappointed when he couldn’t find the angel in the Roadhouse. 

“Sammy?” Dean called. “You hiding the kid someplace?”

“No. Can’t find Cas either. They must be together.”

“Well, I’m eating. If the two nearly-humans want any, they better move fast.”

“Not being full-powered celestials doesn’t make them humans,” Sam muttered to himself. “I’m not a real hunter anymore, but I’m not suddenly another species. Just...not the same as I was before.”

Castiel was definitely still all angel, but he understood things no other angel ever had. He knew things others would never know. And he continued to learn lessons others didn’t bother to learn. Sam loved him for that most of all. Castiel never gave up. He felt things that were forbidden, and he spent years in exile from his home and family, and he built his new life around doing what was good and learning how to make mistakes in the best possible way, under impossible circumstances. He picked himself back up every time he hit the ground. Sam adored him for that, and found inspiration in it too. 

Where was Castiel?

“Cas? Jack?”

When he was certain the two wayward celestials were not in the Roadhouse, he stepped outside. 

“Cas? Come on, man. Jack needs to eat something.” The young man still forgot sometimes that eating was part of the deal, especially now that he wasn’t fueled by his grace. 

Sam stopped short in his search when a stench hit him without mercy. He frowned.

“What the hell?”

“What?” In spite of his threat to eat without their friends, Dean had followed him out the back. “Whoa. What the hell?”

Sam smirked humorlessly. “That’s what I said. I don’t know. Look at that. What is it?”

Dean’s nose was wrinkled in disgust, but he approached the red-brown mess and sat on his heels to examine it. 

“Dude, don’t touch it.”

“I’m not stupid,” Dean muttered. “The hell kind of beer are you brewing in this place?”

“I’m not-Shut up. Cas! Jack? God, what is that smell?”

“Like a…” Dean winced. “Smells like a hospital.”

“No,” Sam sighed back. “No, it smells like a morgue.”

Dean stood over the puddle and nodded. “Yeah. It smells like a morgue. Death and chemicals. And a hint of garlic.”

Sam tossed him a look, then reached for a stick lying nearby. He prodded at the puddle. 

“Careful. It smells like something trying to clean up something dead. That’s a little too familiar in our line of work.”

“Our lives suck, man,” Sam reminded him. 

“They stink too.”

The stick came away from the liquid with a silvery sheen dripping from it. 

Dean gagged. “Okay, that’s so gross.”

“It’s like…”

“Snot.”

“Mucus,” Sam said to himself. “But not like...This remind you of something?”

“Yeah. Snot.”

“No. More like...like a slug.”

“I’m going to throw up.”

Sam glanced back at him. “Shifters use a sort of mucus to slip their skin.”

“But this ain’t shifter guts. I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but it actually smells worse than shifter guts.”

He stood again. “Castiel? Jack?”

“Come on, Cas! Jack, get your ass back inside till we figure out what’s-“

“Dean!” Sam’s heart was pounding so hard, he was certain his brother could hear it. 

“What?”

“Look.” His hands shook all the time now, but especially at that moment. “Drag marks.”

The prints in the dirt were about ten feet away, and they led toward the woods. Bits of brown-red liquid with opaque, silvery consistency followed after. 

“Shit.” Dean grabbed for his gun. “You armed?”

“Always,” Sam growled back. He might not be a hunter anymore, but he was a surrogate dad, and a lover, and he would eternally be a brother, and no matter what ailed him, he would always be a protector. 

“Then let's go get our angels.”


	7. Stone Cold

The whimpering from Jack was breaking Castiel’s heart. He strained against the binds around his wrists, to no avail. He wished this, being tied to hang from his wrists, was not so familiar as it was. “Get away from him. I will kill you, you vile-“

The Smobr was laughing. It had taken the form of a fanged, rotting human in order to communicate with its meals. “Vile? Am I vile, angel? Why? Do you forget why I was made? I have purpose, stupid angel. What purpose have you, beyond feeding me?”

“Your purpose ended with the plagues!” Castiel spat. 

“What’s happening?” Jack moaned. “Castiel?”

“My purpose began with the plagues,” the Smobr countered. “Boy angel, did the old angel teach you about me? Or was he too ashamed?”

Jack’s eyes rolled to look at Castiel for an explanation. 

“Leave him alone. If you’ve got a vendetta, you can settle it with me. He knows nothing of you and your madness!”

The Smobr cackled. It was a watery sound that disgusted Castiel. “He shall learn! Boy angel, I am that which was created to punish and destroy. I am chromatiaceae, and I turned the water red as blood. I am that which sent the frogs to harass and terrify. As I killed the fish and frogs, I brought the biting insects and wild vermin to feast on the rotting corpses. I infected the animals which the sinners kept, and the people themselves grew boils and grotesque features. While the angel Uriel brought down hail of fire, I coaxed in millions of locusts to join the feast, and with them, I blackened the skies. I am the cladosporium which infected the firstborns, and together with my gangrene and the locusts and lice and biting flies, I killed them and let them rot. Nine plagues in one creation. Only the raining of hellfire hail was the work of an angel.”

Jack stared. “Is that what you’re doing to me?” he croaked weakly. 

“Bromism,” Castiel growled back. “The creature is part bromine. It is what we smelled, and it is how he feeds. Angels are susceptible to the effects of bromine poisoning. We have no defense against it while in vessels. The creature tired of his human and livestock victims, and found angels to be a greater reward for his effort. It does not need to hunt angels. It does so-“

“Because it’s fun,” the Smobr laughed. “Heaven sought out my father for my design and creation, and then caused me to bring terror and suffering to the world. And the angels? They were made to forget the wickedness they had done, but I was never to forget. My father made me at their request, and I filled my purpose well.”

“Father?” Jack muttered. “God?”

The Smobr grunted. “Pestilence, father of all creatures that infect and contaminate, father of blight and decay. I am his masterpiece, viruses, venoms and bacterias, poisons and contaminants, pathogens of all sorts, combined to make me what I am. I choose to hunt angels, who believe they are immune to all things, including guilt, so that I might teach them they are not.”

Castiel sneered. “What you don’t infect, you talk to death.”

His captor turned to glower at him. “Pray, angel. Isn’t that what you do? Pray to Heaven to save you. Bring more angels. I’ll feast for weeks!”

It was Jack who smiled through his pain and responded, “Oh, it isn’t more angels that will come to save us. Our friends are far more powerful than that.”

For just a moment, the Smobr seemed confused. “I have never heard an angel refer to any being as more powerful than they. What creatures are these you call friends?”

Castiel shifted as well as he could to look directly into the gaze of the Smobr. “You should have researched your meals. You’ve got no idea who you’re dealing with. For one thing? That boy is no mere angel. For another, I’m the one who cut the ring off Pestilence personally. And our friends-our family? Well, you do not want to make them angry.”

The Smobr opened his mouth to reply, but at that instant, a voice cut him off. 

“Dude. You’re fugly.”

As relief poured through Castiel and Jack, the Smobr whirled around with a hiss. 

Sam took a long stride into the dimly lit forest clearing, while Dean circled the other way. Sam’s eyes flashed in fury. “I don’t know what you are,” he said with lethal quiet. “I don’t know what you’re doing to that kid. But he’s under my protection. I don’t have much to lose, but I will not lose them.”

The Smobr snarled at the hunters angrily. “You’re only humans! Why should I fear you?”

“Because,” Dean’s deep voice returned, “we’re the freaking Winchesters. And those two?”

Sam finished the sentence for him. “They’re with us.”

Even as the battle broke out around him, Castiel couldn’t help smiling. Those were his humans.


	8. Fever-Pitch

Sam had taken the demon-killing knife when he left the bunker. His Glock and Ruby’s knife, a few lore books, John’s journal, and a bag of clothing. A charm that was effective at hiding Jack’s true nature from most who would seek him. An ancient coin that was a gift from Castiel, a copy of Wizard of Oz. But mostly, the knife. It was a solid reminder of how bad things could go, a merciless blade with merciless, hard-learned lessons attached to it. Demon blood soaked into it, feeding its fury. Ruby herself had died on that blade. Sam still wished it had been him holding it, instead of holding her. 

This knife was his cross to bear. He had earned it, in the End Times, at his worst and at his best. He had never told Dean, but in his low, dark, very cold nights when he wondered if it wouldn’t be better if he just wasn’t there at all, he thought about using the blade on himself. He wouldn’t do it. But he thought of it. Some cruel, sick part of him wanted to die on that blade like a demon would. It was the part of him that knew Lucifer’s glacial presence had threaded itself in knots around the vile demon blood, and that wanted to kill what he could, what remained of Azazel and Lucifer. He was all that remained of those two most hated creatures, and one day they would die completely, with him, one way or another. 

But not today. 

Today, he was going to rescue what was left of himself, his family. 

“It cannot be killed!” Castiel warned in that hoarse voice. 

“Yeah,” Sam muttered to himself. “I’ve heard that a lot. Let’s test the theory.” 

He and Dean leapt like one animal, coming at the creature from two sides. The thing gave a gurgling hiss, and slid from them like humanoid slime. Dean gave Sam an instant to get clear, and fired several rounds into the thing. The bullets, silver, it seemed, made the creature roar in pain, but they simply glanced off of him in a way a bullet really shouldn’t. 

The mucous membrane, which contained the thing in the shape of a human, was not even penetrated by the rounds. 

Sam opted to free Castiel while the beast’s attention was on Dean, who snarled obscenities at it. 

“It is the Smobr, created by Pestilence at the time of the Egyptian plagues-“

“I don’t need the bio, Cas!” he barked. His fingers were desperate to release the angel from his binds, and yet so cold as to lack any of his former dexterity. “I just need to know how to kill it!”

“Fast is good!” Dean cried out. “I do not want to die smelling this son of a bitch!”

Castiel shook his head in frustration. “I’ve told you it can’t be killed!”

Jack spoke up then, from where he suffered at the base of a tree. “Anything that eats can die. Sam, you taught me that. Anything that can feel pain can die. It’s what…” The young man seemed to be choking on his own words. 

“It’s what pain is for,” Sam finished for him. 

Jack gave him a weak nod. 

Pain was meant to keep a being from danger. Except Sam’s. Sam’s pain was punishment, revenge, spite. It served no purpose. It was his own body twisting back on itself, not to protect Sam, but to mock him. 

He could hear the sounds of Dean in combat. It had been many, many months since he had heard it, but it sounded like a thousand other days in their lives. He focused on willing his hands to operate properly. Frantically, he stepped back to look at what was holding his angel captive, and realized it was organic. 

The Smobr gave a gross cackle at Dean’s futility. Every blow glanced off, no matter what the man tried. “Decay and rot and infection are inevitable for all things, human. I can smell it on those angels. It led me to them, the stench of putrefaction. Their grace spoils in them. And the other human you brought here, he’s got it all over him too. Decaying angel and decomposing human all together in one body. I make my meals of angels, but this other human is a magnificent treat.”

Tendon. It was tendon that bound Castiel’s wrists. Sam gagged, but he continued his work. His fingers felt like they would break. He had to free Castiel. It was the only chance for Jack and Dean. 

“Sam, leave me. Get Jack to safety.”

He knew better. The Smobr could smell Jack’s dead grace. The young man wouldn’t be safe anywhere unless somehow he and Castiel and Dean could kill this disgusting, seeping beast of Pestilence. 

He felt like his hands would shatter like cold glass. 

It was toying with Dean. He knew the sounds of a monster playing with his food. But Dean was doing an admirable job of keeping it distracted. “Just a little longer,” he murmured. 

The hardened sinew from an earlier victim was wrapped all around Castiel’s wrists. It couldn’t be human. It would have broken by now. Sam wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse, but it was definitely gross. He had not wanted to try using the knife, because he knew he could not keep it steady for a surgical cut. But he was out of options. 

“Cas? Hold really, really still. There’s no chance I’m not going to hurt you, but-but I’ll try. Hold still.”

Castiel looked up to see Sam struggling to hold the blade steady on the binds for the cut. He nodded. “Just get me free,” he agreed. “Take the whole hand if you must.”

“Won’t be that bad.” He took a breath and sliced through the tendons holding his angel prone. 

He heard Castiel’s hiss of pain, another unwelcome reminder of the angel’s waning grace; not so long ago, this knife would not have hurt Sam’s lover at all. Now, his forearm was sliced open by Sam’s pitiful shaking, but he was free to tumble to the ground and crawl toward Jack. 

Sam cringed, and turned back to Dean. 

The hunter was filthy. It was truly impressive, considering all the disgusting things they had gone up against in their time, that this thing had managed to so completely slime Dean that he was nearly unrecognizable. Sam had seen his brother in all sorts of horrible states, but this…

“Sam!” 

He felt the cry reverberate inside his ribs. 

“A taste of the fever,” the Smobr crowed. “Which one doesn’t matter. Yellow fever is a personal favorite, but so long as it is fever, it suffices. Boils and welts and bleeding from the eyes, it’s all very intoxicating.”

Then Dean was choking, spitting blood and bile, and dropping to his hands and knees before the creature. His face was gray and yet flushed, and sweat poured from him. 

Castiel was healing Jack, but Sam could see them both stumble badly when they tried to stand. 

“Sammy!” Dean screamed. 

Fever. 

Sam’s eyes narrowed darkly, and he stepped toward the creature which had brought so much pain to his family in such a short amount of time. 

Fever. 

“Sam, stop! Don’t approach it! Go, take Jack! I’ll save Dean!” But Castiel did not appear to be in any condition to do that. He and Jack were holding one another upright. 

Sam shook his head. “You get Jack safe. I’m going to get my brother.”

“Sam!”

The blade would slide right off the creature, so he let it drop. Instead of a fist, Sam placed an open palm on the Smobr while it stared down at Dean in fascination. 

It shrieked in pain at his touch. 

“Sam,” his brother wailed. “Run. Get them away…” A round of wheezing prevented him from continuing, but it didn’t matter. He had to know Sam wasn’t going to leave him anyway. 

Sam didn’t need dexterity, didn’t need fine motor, for what he did next. He grabbed the Smobr around the throat with both hands. The creature’s slimy skin prevented his from piercing, but once his hands got hold, it did very little to protect against Sam’s brute strength. And just as he had hoped, the thing burned at the touch, like a living fever. 

The Smobr transformed under Sam’s hands, but he dug in deeper. It lost its shape completely, but could not free itself from Sam’s hands. 

The hands which could not hold a mug steady, which trembled even when in the hands of his lover, which were useless far too often, now they were exactly as he needed them to be. The heat from the creature gave them strength, and the ice from his veins damaged the beast somehow. 

Dean slipped on his way to stand, fell back to the ground with a painful huff. “What?” he heaved. “What are you…?”

But all of Sam’s concentration was focused on his hands. He closed his eyes. He commanded the stinging chill which ailed him day and night to obey him now. After all this time spent unconsciously pushing the cold away, he gave it free rein, gave it purpose. Perhaps Azazel and Lucifer had cursed him forever. But he was Sam Winchester, and he would use whatever he had to protect his brother. What was his pain would become his weapon. 

The Smobr made a horrible sound at last. 

The membrane hardened under Sam’s grasp, just as his own tears did, and the creature slowly iced over. It was no longer humanoid, more like that stinking mud it had left behind. Crystals of ice formed over the whole frame, and cracks began to tear through the outer membrane. 

Castiel approached slowly. He helped Dean to his feet, and healed him without a word, and then it was Dean holding Castiel up. 

Jack limped toward his mentor. “Sam?”

The former hunter looked up from his victim. 

“It isn’t dead,” Castiel murmured. 

Dean snorted and handed him off to the nephilim. “I can fix that.” He took aim and shot another round into the Smobr. 

The monster shattered in Sam’s hands, into thousands of shards of ice. He stared at the destruction, then looked back at his brother. 

“You okay, Sammy?”

“I’m-You had yellow fever a minute ago! Are you okay?”

Dean shrugged. “No. I’m disgusting. But I’ll be fine. So long as the smell comes out. Might have to burn the clothes.”

“You might have hit Sam with a ricochet,” Castiel scolded. “You shouldn’t have taken that shot!”

“Sammy? You alive?”

“Uh, yeah. Seem to be.”

“Then I call this a win. Losers clean up the smelly monster dust. I’m going for a shower.” He raised an eyebrow at Sam. “You want to talk about what you just did?”

“No.” Sam was shivering violently now. “Go shower. You smell awful.”

Castiel knelt beside the remains of the Smobr, and shook his head. “It isn’t exactly dead. But its toxicity has been...neutralized. It is like a dormant virus, in a million pieces.”

“Dormant?” Dean shook his head. “I don’t like that idea. Something that sleeps can wake up.”

Jack took a deep breath. “Sam, it caused me to-to decay. I can’t explain it. It infected me and...But then Cas healed me just enough, and I feel like he reversed what was happening to me.”

Sam nodded. “He’s healed you before. It fixes whatever is damaged.”

Castiel narrowed his gaze. “Jack?”

“Not just what happened today. It’s like it reversed all the dying parts.”

“What does that mean?”

His angel nodded slowly. “In order to heal what the Smobr had done, but not expend all my ability, so I could still heal you and your brother, I simply set into motion and sped up his own cell regeneration.”

“I think it stimulated the regeneration of my grace as well.” Jack sat on his heels to look over the remains of his attacker. Then he waved his hand over the thawing mess, and it disappeared entirely. Then he smiled up at Sam. 

Dozens of emotions flashed through Sam’s heart and mind then, but he managed to smile back at his charge. “Jack, I’m so glad! That’s fantastic!”

Dean glanced at him, then sighed. “Okay, boy wonder. Come on. You can detox me as your next magical trick, and then we are eating the damn breakfast I made.”

Sam could hear Jack chattering as the two of them walked toward the roadhouse. But he turned to Castiel. “You did it! You helped him get his grace back!”

“I suspect it will still be a long time before he is close to full power, Sam. And in the meantime, I am unfortunately even less powerful than I was this morning.”

He hurried to put his arm around Castiel’s waist to take some of the weight on himself. 

“Thank you for saving us, Sam. The Smobr has hunted my kind for far too long. There are very few creatures which can harm angels.”

“Now there’s one less. How’s your arm?”

“It will be fine. You did the right thing. How did you know your touch would incapacitate the Smobr?”

Sam looked back at where his opponent had lay. “I didn’t. But he was able to infect Dean. I just sort of...willed myself to use the cold in me to fight the fever. I didn’t know what would happen. I mostly just wanted to buy you three some more time. And now Jack is...So now...Time is up.”

Castiel tipped his head. “Time up? What do you mean?”

“For us, angel. Time’s up for us. You saw him. Jack is getting better! And-and I think it would be best if you two took off. For good.”

A severe frown pulled at Castiel’s eyebrows. “You mean leave you? For good? Because Jack’s powers seem to be returning to him?”

Sam gathered the last of his strength to him, just as he had gathered the cold before. “Yes. If Jack’s power is back, I want you both to leave. Unlike you two, I won’t get better. I’ll be fine on my own. You two should be out fighting the good fight. And so should Dean. So if you love me, Cas, make Dean go. I can’t be the albatross forever. I’ll be here if any of you ever need anything. But this horrible, disgusting monster has given us the chance to move on. You need to take it.” He couldn’t stand to stare into those hurt blue eyes, so he turned and began his stubborn march back to the roadhouse without another word.


	9. Hibernation

It wasn’t like successful conclusions to hunts of the past. There was no laughing and teasing, no grumbling over patching up, and even Dean wasn’t up for a celebratory beer this early. Worst of all, Sam was forced into hibernation. He was entirely spent, and cold beyond belief. 

He let Castiel tuck his lover into a nest of blankets in the bedroom, and waited for his return. 

“He okay?” His voice was low. Jack had gone to his room to read up on the Smobr, and to log the encounter in the journal Sam had taught him to keep. The kid was giddy, but he seemed to know he needed to leave the older beasts to their grumbling. 

Castiel sighed at his friend. “Aside from miserably cold and stubborn? I think he will be fine when he wakes.”

“Kid’s juiced up again.”

The angel dropped onto a bar stool next to him. “Not nearly. But the process has begun, which is encouraging. I feared he might spend decades without access to his powers.”

Dean nodded slowly. “And what you did for him. He can do that for you soon?”

“Who knows? Yes, probably. But there’s really never been a Jack before. And there are many things the baby books did not cover. Instead of how long a child will need to wait before his angelic grace returns him to deific strength, there were many confusing chapters devoted to nasal aspiration.”

“Yeah. Well, that’s good news if he ever gets stuffed up. You’re on that duty.”

“I’m ridiculously well-versed on the subject.” 

The hunter gave his partner a weary smile. “Want to talk this out?”

Castiel narrowed his eyes. He did not have to ask to what Dean referred. “If he thinks we are all going to leave him, beyond the time it takes to exterminate some threat to a community of humans, he’s very wrong.”

Dean snickered. “He’s made it my job to convince you two to fly off and not look back.”

The angel hummed in irritation. “And I’m to convince you and Jack. I’m inclined to believe…”

“Jack’s got a similar mission regarding the two of us?”

He received a nod. 

“Right.” Dean cleared his throat. “So? Why’s he doing this? He’s got to know we can’t leave him.”

Castiel’s smile was soft and cringing. “He feels useless, Dean.”

“He just killed a sentient, ancient sneeze.”

“And how often do you think that will come up in the future?”

“I don’t know. How many of those snot demons did Pestilence make?”

Castiel smirked. “One was more than enough.” He heaved a sigh. “I’m going to speak with Sam when he awakens, which may not be for a very long time. As Jack gains in power, it’s possible he can heal him, but I don’t truly think so.”

Dean felt like he had been slapped. “Why not?”

“It’s sewn into him, Dean, in the same way as the demon blood always has been. It’s fused in. There’s no way to separate what’s Lucifer and what’s Sam. I’m sorry, my friend. I wish I could do something. Jack may be able to ease the worst of his pain, but I don’t think the rest of it has a cure. It isn’t like those things that Pestilence wrought. This cannot be cured, not without disabling Sam much further, probably killing him. I hadn’t said so before because it looked like Jack would remain powerless for so long it would be moot. And at my most potent, I couldn’t have done it myself.”

He pulled a rough hand down his face. “Yeah. And Sam thinks finding shifters and others is a waste. You agree?”

Blue eyes lowered. “Not a waste. Just not...It won’t change anything for Sam, I’m afraid. Look, I’ve been wrong before, certainly-“

Dean tried to swallow a bitter snap. “But you think Jack might-might be able to ease the pain?”

“That’s my hope. Jack may be able to ease the worst of it.”

“Okay. Okay.” He took a deep breath, and sighed it out. “Then we do what we can for him. And we keep fighting just like we always have.”

A small smile shone in Castiel’s eyes, if not his mouth. “He will not like to learn he’s been overruled.”

Dean grinned slyly. “That’s why you’re on that duty too.”

This did not seem to surprise the angel. “Nasal aspiration and listening to Sam tell me why I’m wrong. Fortunately, I’m experienced with both.”

He gave his friend a wink, and smacked him on the shoulder. “Go get him, tiger.”


	10. Rekindled

It wasn’t until eight days later that Sam truly awoke from his hibernation. There were moments of dim awareness, when he lifted himself against a great heaviness to use the bathroom, and he even remembered brushing his teeth once. There were times when he felt certain Dean was trying to spoon broth into his mouth, which annoyed him and amused him in equal measure. At some point, he could hear Jack reading aloud from his textbooks, and pausing occasionally to take note of something in particular, or to interrupt himself to talk about how well he was handling the Roadhouse. Sam wanted to tell him he was proud of him, but his mind slipped under the frigid blanket of sleep before he could do so. 

But mostly, in those small, foggy moments, he was aware of his angel. Unlike the broth which cooled immediately upon contact with his tongue, Castiel’s presence remained warm even when it was curled around Sam’s chill. Once, when very groggy, he heard himself ask about his angel’s wings, but received gentle shushing which eased him back to sleep. 

At last, he opened his eyes and managed to keep them open. He turned onto his side to look at the person sharing his space. He smiled weakly. “Hey, Cas,” he tried to say. 

Blue eyes flicked open to stare down at him. “Hello, Sam. How do you feel?”

“Achy. And cold.”

Castiel smiled sadly. “Yes. Of course.”

But Sam blinked several times, and frowned in confusion. “Cas? It isn’t as bad as it was.” He struggled to sit up, with his angel’s help. “It’s not as bad! I feel…”

At this point, his eyes burst wide, and he dove for his trash bin to vomit. Tears streamed down his cheeks, as he heaved into the bin. Castiel did not seem surprised by this. “It’s all right, belovéd. I thought there might be some necessary ablutions. Let your body purge as it can.”

To Sam’s horror, most of what was coming up seemed to be red-black blood. “Cas,” he cried. 

“Shh. It’s all right. I’m right here. Listen if you can. Jack has been studying without rest for days. He knows more about the composition of human blood now than I ever have, which is remarkable since I’m quite familiar with it myself. He’s using his understanding of human physiology to target his powers, to do the most good for you.”

“It’s-it’s purifying me?”

“It’s untangling you. What you’re expelling is that part of Lucifer’s curse which Jack was able to burn off your own proteins within your blood plasma. He was very specific about the plasma, though I admit to being too worried for you to truly listen to the explanation. He regenerated your plasma with clean proteins. The dead blood cells which were destroyed in the process are part of what you are purging.”

“The demon…” Nothing more was coming up, but his stomach tried again anyway. He was exhausted, but he had to grasp what Castiel was saying. 

“Yes, Sam. The demon blood is the part which could not survive Jack’s procedure. And Lucifer’s grace cannot fuse to your proteins so completely without it. It’s there. It will always be there. But a mere fraction of what was.”

Sam could not speak again, but he marveled at this new development while Castiel allowed his own grace to clean the mess and the days of sweat from Sam and the room. He sighed with relief. Now that he wasn’t busy expelling Hell’s taint, he could focus on how he felt. 

Castiel waited with hopeful eyes. 

The human began to smile. “I cried, Cas. Real tears.”

“Yes, Sam.”

He flexed his hands, and stretched his long limbs carefully. “I still ache. But it isn’t like before. It’s just a stiffness. My joints don’t have that sharp pain anymore. Just kind of a dull...And, Cas, I’m not nearly so cold as I was!” Tears returned to his eyes, and he laughed when they didn’t begin to freeze, but instead streaked his face as tears should. He sat up and laughed again when his joints did not protest. “Cas, it’s better! It’s-Where’s Jack? I have to-“

“Shh. Wait, belovéd. He’s asleep now. Dean too, finally. Let them rest. They need it.”

Sam nodded. He reached for Castiel, and once inside the warm embrace, the tears came so hard and fast that he shook all over. “It’s better, Cas!” he sobbed. “It’s better, I’m better, and I don’t have to make you leave me!”

A strong hand carded its fingers through his hair gently. “I’ve tried to tell you, my love. We all tried to tell you. We aren’t leaving, and not because you’re better.”

He pushed him to arm’s length, and shook his head frantically. “You don’t understand! I’m still cold, and it still hurts, but I’m not useless now! I can help again! I-I don’t know if-if hunts are a-a possibility, but I can at least be better than a burden to you!” He couldn’t stop the sobs from quaking his whole body. 

Castiel kissed his lips softly. “No, Sam. That is exactly what we’ve all been telling you. You’re no burden, my love. We don’t stay because you need us, sweet Sam. We stay because we need one another. Because we are family. In all this time, you’ve forgotten what family is. You and Dean taught me long ago, and you’ve taught Jack too. Family is there for you in the good and the bad, and they don’t stop being family when things are difficult. Sam, did you really think your ability to hunt was what makes us love you? Did you think our love for you is based solely on what you can do? Is your love for us so cold as that?”

“No,” he wept. “No. I’m sorry.”

“You know better. Jack was able to help, far more than I truly thought he would be able to, and that’s due to his fascination with human anatomy and scholarship. You would have been so proud of the way he studied. Even as he ran the place just as you would, he studied, just as you would. He murmured about blood cells and plasma and sugars and proteins, and who can say what else, until he felt confident that he could lay on hands with not only his powers but with his new knowledge to guide them. You would have been so proud, my love.”

Sam watched as tears filled his angel’s eyes too. 

“Kelly would be proud. I am. It so completely symbolizes what Jack is made of, his powers and his humanity, his intelligence and his wisdom. He combined everything you’ve taught him about study and dedication, everything Dean has modeled about hard work and focus, used the idea I gave him about the body’s way of regenerating on its own, with a bit of help, and he healed you. It was...Sam, it was a beautiful thing to see. And he did it because he loves you. That boy was never going to leave your side, Sam. None of us were.”

It had been a long time since Sam’s fingers obeyed him properly. But now they tangled in Castiel’s own perfectly. “Thank you, angel. Really. I can’t tell you how relieved I was when I opened my eyes to see you’re still here. I’m so grateful, to all three of you. I can never tell you how grateful.”

Castiel smiled through his tears. “You don’t have to, because we all feel the same. You could have given up, a thousand times, Sam. But you didn’t. You were determined to be there for us, to be our source of comfort and support, our home, Jack’s guardian. Don’t you think we are grateful for that? For staying when we know you could have left us? When, at times, I know you wanted to? Sam, we still have so much more to teach one another. If you hadn’t encouraged Jack to keep learning everything he could, his power alone would not have been enough. There’s always more to learn from one another. You must still learn that my love does not give up any more than yours does.”

“I do love you, Castiel. With everything I am, I love you.”

Warm arms wrapped around him again. “No matter what comes next, be it chill or fever, we will face it together, my love. And no matter what changes, that won’t. Not for any of us. Now rest, Sam. Let me watch over all three of you tonight, as I’m meant to do. It is all I will ever ask.”


End file.
